<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Paint Me A Picture by Camerahead12</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26827813">Paint Me A Picture</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camerahead12/pseuds/Camerahead12'>Camerahead12</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Angstober2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canon Temporary Character Death, Castiel/Dean Winchester Wing Kink, Dean Winchester Has a Wing Kink, Destiel Promptober 2020 (Supernatural), M/M, Or not, Pining, Pining Dean Winchester, The Author Regrets Nothing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:08:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26827813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camerahead12/pseuds/Camerahead12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Day Four; Doodles/Doodling</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Angstober2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950358</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Destiel Promptober 2020, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paint Me A Picture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>  It’s been a week.</p><p>  A solid week of no inspiration. Dean sits at his desk with a sheet of white drawing paper in front of him taunting him with little doodles and drabbles scribbles all over the page. Telling his editor he’d have something new next week turned into two weeks. Then by the third he’d just shut his cellphone off completely, even going as far to stop answering the door. Well, unless he knew it was the delivery kid with his food. Dean paid him extra to do a specific knock.</p><p>  Call him paranoid, whatever. He just didn’t want to deal with the confrontation right now.</p><p>  Sighing for the millionth time, Dean started doodling a quick sketch of one of the main characters for the comic book he illustrates and writes. Well, maybe he <em>did</em> draw and write for. He hasn’t been able to think of a single damn thing to come up with since one of his main characters decided to go off script and become a demon. Now he’s stuck and not sure how to dig himself out of this hole.</p><p>  Dropping his pencil on the desk, he runs his fingers through his hair, tugging firmly in hopes it might pull some sort of idea free. Castiel, the face of one of his three main characters, stares back at him with his intense look.</p><p>  Secretly Dean has always loved Castiel’s character the most. An angel that chose to fall for humanity, learning about things like feelings, emotions, urges and discovering what “free will” is really about. Dean rarely gets the opportunity to draw his wings in the comic, but when he doodles he finds himself going as far to shade in the dark feathers with hints of greens, blues and purples throughout those midnight feathers. He may or may not have some wild fantasies about things he’d like to do to the guy, but no one needs to know that. Hey, everyone has kink.</p><p>  Okay, so he might have just drawn out his idea of the perfect kind of guy one day. Dean wanted a strong, yet naïve type of person to be able to save his other two idiot main characters. He had to write in a back story for the angel, and a man coming from a place of religious faith seemed perfect. That meant he needed to be somewhat caring enough to be the “perfect” family man.</p><p>  And if he drew himself as one of the main characters, no one had to know. No, seriously, no one really had to know. Dean wrote and illustrated the whole thing under a pen name as Kaz Lebanon. He’s not afraid of the public eye pre sae, he just has a little bit of anxiety is all.</p><p>  One Dean got the idea for the story (two brothers going around the country hunting demons and monsters) everything just seemed to flow. It was like one day everything just clicked, and he had ten pages written and sketched out. It took a month to have everything outlined and planned out where he wanted it, but his publisher ate it up.</p><p>  But that was eight years ago. Now his stupid story went totally off script and he doesn’t know how to bring everything back to point. Usually Castiel saves them, or one of the brothers saves each other, and everything works out. Well, last he left them, Dean was demon, Sam was a step away from deaths door and Castiel was busy fighting and hiding away from angels that were pissed off at him.</p><p>  A knock at the door has him jumping up from his desk. Did he order food and forest about it? Dean listens anxiously for the “special” knock to come, and when it does, he stumbles towards the door, racking his brain trying to remember when or what he ordered.</p><p>  “Hey Kev,” He says unlocking and opening the door. “My brain totally spaced and I left my wallet –”</p><p>  The words die on his tongue as he catches the bluest damn blue eyes he’s ever seen staring back at him. Dean blinks a couple of times as he pries his eyes away from staring, and let’s himself look.</p><p>  Dean knows what he’s going to see his eyes start searching over the man in front of him, but seeing him like this – <em>real</em> – is just…amazing.</p><p>  He has a dusting of a five o’clock shadow over his face, a head full of messy dark hair and the ever present trench coat Dean has no idea where the idea came from. All that’s missing is the wings. But holy shit this is probably the best cosplay he’s ever seen someone do from his story.</p><p>  Anxiety starts to build up inside him when his mind comes back online. Someone found out who he is. He found out where he lives. He showed up at his house. How many other people know? Does he have to move?</p><p>  Just as his anxiety starts to spin out of control, the Castiel looking guy tilts his head at him. Dean is filled with so many mixed emotions ranging from pulling the guy by his white dress shirt inside and kissing the hell out of him, or slamming the door on the guys face for being so obsessed.</p><p>  Just as he’s about ready to choose the latter, the man braces his hand against the door. “Hello Dean,”</p><p>  Holy fucking shit, that voice!</p><p>  If Dean ever has to pick a voice to go with Castiel’s character this would be it. Despite the situation he’s embarrassingly kind of turned on by it. Which honestly, it’s been so long since he’s been out, at this point the first guy who shows him any kind of attention at a bar might have him half hard before anything actually happens.</p><p>  “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by but,” he pauses and smirks, fricken smirks at him, “I needed to talk to you about continuing the story.”</p><p>  <em>Oh shit. Oh shit.</em> Dean thinks back up from the door, completely forgetting to close it on the guy. <em>This guy was hired by his fricken editor to get him to write something. Stupid Michael stooped super low making some guy dress up as his favorite character. That’s low. How can he convince the guy to leave with – oh shit is he actually coming in here!?</em></p><p>  Dean stumbles back, heart racing so hard in his chest he actually thinks it might actually explode. He needs to find a weapon, or maybe a phone. Yeah, his phone would be good. Where did he leave it?</p><p>  “I don’t know who your Michael is, but I assure you I don’t mean you any harm,” the man says, his gravely voice low and kind of actually calming. “As I said, I needed to talk to you about continuing the story.”</p><p>  “L-L-Listen man,” Dean stammers. “I don’t know what Michael put you up, but I swear if you just give me another week I’ll have something – ”</p><p>  “Dean,” the man says his name like a command. Dean shuts his mouth immediately. “I knew this would be difficult for you to understand, but I am Castiel. From your…” He waves his hand over to the back room where his desk is. “I am here to say that I’m growing very frustrated with sitting around and doing nothing and would like you to get back to writing.”</p><p>  A nervous laugh bubbles up and out of Dean’s mouth as he steps back further into his house watching as the guy follows him, nonchalantly looking around the room. “You-You are just some obsessed fan. How the fuck did you find me? If it wasn’t Michael, then how the hell did you get my address?”</p><p>  “I’m an angel,” he says, squinting his eyes back at Dean. “My name is Castiel. You ‘created’ me. More or less you called to me and I appeased your wish and let myself be written into your story. I switched worlds for a time because I was intrigued.”</p><p>  Dean doesn’t even realize he’s stopped moving backwards. He’s just staring at the hands that the guy – Castiel – actually used fucking air quotes. It takes him a minute or two to actually process what Castiel has said before that nervous laugh comes out again.</p><p>  “You’re crazy!”</p><p>  “I assure you I’m not,” Castiel says flatly. “If you would like I can help you with writing out what happens next. I’d very much like the story to end on a happy note, though, matters in Heaven – my Heaven – are becoming more pressing. I’d very much like to return.”</p><p>  Dean just blinks at him not exactly sure what to say. His heartbeat is so loud in his ears Dean wonders if maybe he misheard something. Does this guy really think he’s an angel? <em>His</em> angel?</p><p>  Castiel sighs and holds up two fingers walking closer to Dean. Dean panics and tries to back up away from the guy, but his back hits a wall. In two breaths Castiel is in front of him and his two fingers touch his forehead lightly. A warm, comforting peace begins to wash over him, and Dean feels his heartbeat slowly.</p><p>  “Any more of that an you were going to have a heart attack,” Castiel says taking a step back. “Does that happen often?”</p><p>  Again, all Dean can do is stare back at him. What the fuck just happened?</p><p>  “Dean, you are thinking very loudly, but I’m not sure if you want an answer or it’s rhetorical,” he says with another sigh. “I’ve been told I’m very bad at understanding humans and their words.”</p><p>  He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Dean, honest to God, has no idea what to say. His panic attack is gone and in its place is nothing but peace. All he did was touch him. Is there a drug that can do that? Maybe he drugged him.</p><p>  Dean watches as Castiel opens his mouth to respond, but Dean cuts him off. “Don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know.”</p><p>  Castiel just gives him a nod and it’s only then that Dean realizes what just happened. Castiel read his mind. Just like in the books. Just like only angels can do.</p><p>  <em>Holyfuckingshitit’sreallyCastiel!</em> Dean screams inside his mind. He flinches then, realizing Castiel can probably hear him and mumbles, “Sorry.”</p><p>  Castiel just chuckles, “I’m just relieved you are convinced so easily. I was afraid it might take some more convincing.”</p><p>  Dean thinks about it for a second. He thinks about all the characters, both main and minor, that have come and gone meeting Castiel for the first time. His brain circles back to the first time Dean drew Castiel in the barn. The shadow of his wings against the walls.</p><p>  Dean’s eyes stray to the shadows behind Castiel looking for something he knows wont be there. Castiel himself stiffens and starts to shift on his feet.</p><p>  “You want to see my wings,” he states.</p><p>  Dean feels his face flush as he drops his eyes. He’s written theories, unpublished ones, about angel’s and the intimacy of other’s touching their wings, or even seeing them in person. It’s a personal thing. Something an angel would only do with a mate. Still, he wonders if maybe he’s wrong.</p><p>  “You’re right,” Castiel says, voice dipping lower. “About some of it. It’s…not warranted necessary. Even the Dean in your story has yet to see my wings. And if my suspicions are correct, you are writing us to be closer, like he and Lisa were.”</p><p>  Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck, embarrassed to be called out on his secret fantasy. The only chance he ever thought he’d have at any closeness with Castiel.</p><p>  “Though, I suppose, by creating and writing a world with me in – actually calling so loudly for me – I might possibly be able to grant you this.”</p><p>  Before Dean can even open his mouth to argue against it, he feels the air shift around him. Any lingering doubt that he might have had about Castiel being an actual angel go right out the window as right before his eyes two massive, midnight black wings with blues, greens and purples shifting and shimmering in the feathers appears. They half expanded, unable to be spread fully due to his room size, but are fluffing up under his gaze.</p><p>  Dean’s feet are taking him forward before he can even stop himself. His hand must have a mind of its own right now, too, because it’s reaching around Castiel’s shoulder twitching just to touch.</p><p>  A firm, warm hand catches his wrist just as his fingers a brush away from touching. Dean’s eyes go wide as it crashes down on him what he was about to do without permission.</p><p>  “Shit, I’m sorry! Fuck, I don’t know what –”</p><p>  “Please, just go slowly,” Castiel whispers, his voice trembling slightly. Dean’s breath hitches as he realizes how close their faces are from each other. “It’s been a…very long time before I’ve called them into a physical plane.”</p><p>  Dean turns slowly back to his outstretched hand as Castiel carefully let’s his fingers slip away from Dean’s wrist. Slowly, oh so slowly, Dean reaches out and touches his fingertips lightly over the feathers. Castiel lets out a small gasp, and Dean applies a little bit more pressure.</p><p>  Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Castiel close his eyes, tipping his head back. Dean brings his whole palm down, almost petting the feathers, listening to the hitches in Castiel’s breathing. Underneath his fingers the feathers twitch and the wings try and arch to spread further. Dean finds himself transfixed by their movements and colors shifting and changing.</p><p>  “Oh, oh, <em>ohh</em>,” Castiel gasps. “It feels…it feels so…”</p><p>  “They’re beautiful,” Dean whispers, letting his fingers work themselves deeper into the soft, silk like feeling feathers.</p><p>  Castiel moans, actually moans in his ear his head coming forward and resting on his shoulder as he starts panting. “Stop.” He whispers and Dean’s hand freezes entwined in a handful of feathers. “Too much. It’s…Oh Dean.”</p><p>  “She, it’s okay,” Dean whispers, trying to reassure him as he slowly starts to back his hand away. As his fingers come free of the feathers, Castiel still hasn’t moved his head from his shoulder. The urge to kiss the top of Castiel’s head in reassurance is so strong he has to bite his tongue to stop himself. Instead he rests his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezes, hoping to give him some comfort.</p><p>  Slowly Castiel’s head comes off his shoulder and Dean’s body is suddenly alert to how fucking sexy the angel looks and the downright sinful eyes he’s given him. The blue that use to be there is just a sliver as his pupils are blown wide.</p><p>  “Dean, I…I need…” He pants before growling and shoving his lips against Dean’s.</p><p>  Dean stumbles backwards with Castiel’s weight over him, their lips a mess of teeth and tongue. He hears the wings rustling behind him, and decides to go for broke, reaches out blinding sliding his fingers into a handful of feathers. Castiel back arches as he moans out his name, bucking against Dean.</p><p>  Dean takes the opportunity to mouth along Castiel’s exposed neck. Somewhere on the street he hears something like a car alarm going off. It irritates him that in this moment something as stupid as a car alarm would try and ruin it. Trying to focus again, it feels just like every fantasy he’s ever had thought it would. Their stubble rubs against each other with just enough friction it boarders on too much. He nips against the tendon in Castiel’s neck, sucking a mark as he feels Castiel grind against him harder, the sound of feathers rustling.</p><p>  Dean digs his hand deeper into Castiel’s feathers as the stupid car alarm seems to only get louder. What the hell?</p><p>  Huffing in frustration, Dean backs off Castiel’s neck and kisses along his jaw until their lips find each other again. The beeping grows louder and Dean squeezes his eyes shut tighter.</p><p>  Wait, he knows what this. No! No! This cannot be happening, thiscannotbefuckinghappening!</p><p>  “Cas, wait! Please!” Dean pleads, digging both his fingers deeper into whatever part of Castiel he’s holding onto.</p><p>  Castiel just gives him a sad smile, his wings disappearing in a blink like they were never there. “Wake up Dean.”</p><p>  “No! No! Don’t go! I can’t wake up without you there again!” He screams, hands scrambling for a tighter hold on him, but his hands keep slipping off as if Cas is made of oil.</p><p>  “Wake up!” Castiel’s lips mouth, though the voice isn’t his. “Dean, wake up!”</p><p>  With a jolt Dean sits up, eyes blinking open as he looks around. It’s another dingy motel room, with the same questionable marks on the ceilings and walls. Sammy stands off to the side, throwing his clothes into his duffle bag before zipping it up.</p><p>  “Good, you’re up,” Sam says grabbing the strap of his bag. “We got ten minutes before we need to get on the road. I couldn’t wake you up for nothing, I was about ready to call Bobby. Must’ve been a good dream.”</p><p>  “Where’s Cas?” Dean asks throwing off the covers, throwing his legs over the side.</p><p>  Sam pauses for a minute before looking back over and giving him a sad smile. Dean’s heart starts pounding in his ear and starts shaking his head.</p><p>  “No, no, no!” He screams, grabbing his head.</p><p>  Memories of trying to hang onto Cas’ hand in purgatory flood through his mind. Remembering his fingers slipping slipping, not strong enough to hold as he was sucked out and away from Castiel, back to Earth.</p><p>  Tears are dipping down his face, but he ignores them. He hears Sam mutter a quiet, “shit” and then the tone from the phone as he calls someone. The rest of the words are muffled like he’s underwater. Bit by bit memories of the past few months slowly start to come back to him as he chokes back a sob under the weight of all the repressed memories.</p><p>  Cas is gone. He wasn’t strong enough to bring him back from Purgatory. It’s his fault he’s gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hehehe, I wanna hear what you guys have to say. Come scream at me in the comments. ~_^</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>